


Road to Redemption

by BeckittLewis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, BetaDerek, M/M, Self Harm, Suicide Attempts, alphaScott, were!stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-01-19 03:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1453951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeckittLewis/pseuds/BeckittLewis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles feels drops of water hit his arm before he realizes that he's crying. All he can think of is Lydia screaming. About how he was ready to plunge a sword through his stomach and kill himself, to have Scott then slit his throat and seal the deal so that it would save them all, so that he could pay for what he did to Allison, to all the other people who had died. His mistake was thinking for a second that it was better to outsmart the nokitsune, and that maybe, just maybe, he deserved to live. He was going to fix that. He was going to fix everything, for everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING! Cutting, suicide, angst, really vividly painted pictures of all of these things.   
> \-------

Today was supposed to be a good day. A day about playing video games and listening on the police radio to ensure his dad was alright and to masturbate to thoughts of Lydia. 

Except Allison had died, and Stiles had been possessed by the nokitsune and done some pretty horrible things like kill people, like Allison. It didn't matter that everyone said it wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault that he was possessed by an evil trickster spirit that thrived on strife, chaos and suffering. It was however his fault that he was filled with turmoil and thus attracted the spirit in the first place. It was his fault he wasn't strong enough to fight the nokitsune off sooner. His fault Allison was dead as well as the countless other souls in Beacon Hills from his oni attacks and bombs. So Stiles punished himself. He barely slept, he barely ate, he took down all of his investigative materials from his walls and made himself a prisoner in his own home. He did the bare minimum to finish school. He stayed away from everyone. Too bad everyone wouldn't stay away from him. 

Mostly Derek. Lord Sourwolf never really said anything, just lurked, and stalked and did super creepy things that just translated to Stiles that he had far too much time and was acting on Scott's orders to keep an eye on him. It got to a point where Stiles would feel Derek's presence everywhere. He was outside his window when he was home, he was in the parking lot at school and he was a dozen feet behind him when he was anywhere else. At first Stiles didn't even notice, which just further proved how exhausted he was making himself, but then Stiles realized he didn't care what Derek did. He didn't care what anyone did anymore. 

April 10th

It had been mere weeks since Allison's death. Stiles spent the day in his bed. Every time he closed his eyes he would hear Lydia's screams. Feel the anguish under his skin. He needed to get it out. It was always there, thrumming under his pores, his blood boiling. He lay in his bed staring at the utility knife on his stomach. He barely remembers going to the garage and pulling it out of the tool kit there. He doesn't know why he did it. But it dawns on him. Its the only way to get it out, the only way to make sure he gets some relief. So he draws the blade across his arm. Again and again and again. Until he's staring at the blood slowly dripping down his arm, like thin rivulets trying to find escape. And that's when he feels it, the pain, the sharp, stinging, throbbing pain from open wounds. And that's when he realizes this was never for relief. It was punishment. A small price to pay for the atrocities he committed. And that's when Derek crashed into his room.

At first he tries to hide his arm but then he realizes that he still doesn't care what Derek thinks.

"Why're you here?" Stiles slurs. His voice sounds so tired, just done with everything.

Derek's eyebrows shoot up like its the dumbest question out there, and then they knit together in concern because the reason is there, leaving small red drops onto the bed sheets. Derek takes a step closer to Stiles.

"Go away." Stiles grits out. It sounded much harsher than how he meant it to be. He just wants to be alone. He wants everyone to leave him alone.

"No." Derek replies and its quiet, but its defiant. He moves closer to Stiles, slowly, and finally kneels beside his bed, looking up at his pale face, those once bright brown eyes now sickly and ashen rimmed. "Stiles, let me help you." Derek asks, his voice soft.

"Why?" Stile retorts, his voice cracking slightly.

"You're pack." Derek replies like its the most obvious thing in the world.

Stiles just sighs. Too tired. In too much pain. He wanted to sob by himself. He wanted to hate himself on his bed and secretly hoped to bleed out in his sleep even though he knows the scars aren't deep enough. Instead he looks down at Derek who looks sad and confused and hurt, like Stiles pulled the blade onto his skin instead of his own. He slowly puts his arm in front of him so its in Derek's face and the man just stares at it, his face contorting in pain, but underneath it all, relief. 

"I'm going to bandage your arm." Derek states as he gets up and heads to the bathroom. Stiles thinks he should ask how Derek knows where the first aid kit is. Why Derek came into his room when he was cutting himself. Why Derek even cared. But he doesn't.

Derek is in front of him again with a moist cloth.

"Can I?" He asks quietly. Holding the cloth near Stiles' arm. He nods. Not caring enough to fight the werewolf. Derek gently grasps Stiles' wrist and with the other hand begins softly dabbing the cloth over the lines of red, mopping up the mess. Stiles hisses, it hurts, but not nearly as much as he knows he deserves. Derek's eyes raise to his in concern, but he doesn't stop. Derek pulls out some anti-septic scar ointment and gently applies it all over Stiles' forearm, then wraps gauze around his arm. When he's done it looks like he's wearing a cast. Derek is still holding his wrist and every so reluctantly he lets it go gently tucking it to Stiles' chest. 

There's a moment of silence before Derek gets up to leave.

"Please don't do that again." He turns around his eyes pleading. "Please." Stiles looks away and doesn't respond. "Look I'm not going to leave you alone if you don't promise to stop hurting yourself." 

"Do what you want, Hale. I don't care." Stiles states, his voice emotionless. 

Derek storms out of his room, but Stiles can hear him in the living room. Stiles falls asleep knowing Derek can hear his heartbeat and the sounds of his breath. 

That was the first night Stiles didn't have nightmares in a long time.

 

April 14th

"Look Stiles, I don't care how you got hurt, but you can't keep hiding yourself away like this." Scott states behind Stiles' door. After Derek had bust in, Stiles had ensured to get a lock for it. It doesn't stop Scott in the least when the alpha kicks the door off its hinges, lock ripping out of the wall and everything. Stiles looks up and Scott's eyes are red, his expression furious. 

"Talk to me Stiles." Scott demands, his voice soft, almost begging. Scott plops himself next to his best friend. "I know you're blaming yourself. I can smell the self-hatred all throughout this house. You have to stop."

"Scott, just leave me alone." Stiles huffs out. 

"No. Derek told me what you did. I don't care why, but I want to help. That's why I want to get you out of this house. Get some air, go see a movie, do something, whatever you want, bud." Scott sounds hopeful. 

"Derek told you and you waited four days to confront me about it?" Stiles states, his tone accusatory. 

Scott twinges a little. "I did some research, which is hard to do, considering its your thing, and the websites told me the best thing is distraction and support and so that's what I'm here to do."

"It took you four days to do research?" Stiles spits out.

Scott shrugs.

"Just fucking tell it to me straight, Scott. It took you so long because you didn't even want to come here. You, and everyone else is blaming me for what happened to Allison, and everyone is way too sad to even give a shit about anyone else right now, the only reason you're here is because you feel like the guilty best friend. You don't owe me anything Scott, so get the hell out of here and leave me alone." Stiles manages to say everything without his voice cracking, but it trembles and sounds broken and its so pathetic he wants to slap himself.

"Get over yourself, Stiles. Nobody blames you. Yeah, we're sad, but none of us is doing shit like this to ourselves. I'm worried about you. We all are." Scott's voice sounds genuinely concerned but tired as well, like this is an overly used speech.

"So if Derek hadn't found me slicing my veins open you wouldn't be here right?" Stiles spits out angrily.

"No. If you weren't holing yourself up in your room, talking to us and eating, I wouldn't be here. We're all dealing with Allison dying, some us differently than others, but you're hurting yourself, and not just with that." Scott defends, pointing to the bandaged arm that Stiles is attempting to hide behind himself.

Derek takes that as his cue to step into Stiles' doorway and just stands there a little awkwardly, his eyebrows doing the talking as usual, mirroring the expression that Scott is currently sporting. 

"What the fuck is this, an intervention?" Stiles gets up from his bed and glares daggers at Derek.

Scott sighs. "Call it what you want Stiles, we're here to help." 

"Just get out, both of you. Leave me alone." Stiles turns his back to them. He doesn't want their pity. He doesn't want to share his pain with them. He just wants to bear it all on his own, so it tears him apart, and kills him from the inside out. 

"You still have it Stiles." Scott states. "The dementia."

Stiles is so tired. This whole conversation has exhausted him. "So you're here to turn me is that it?" 

"If you still want to." Derek inputs.

"Well I don't, so get out. I want to sleep." Stiles stares down Derek. Hale looks so hurt that all Stiles can think of is that the more he hurts them, the least likely they would be to keep bothering him. 

It takes a silent conversation between Scott and Derek, but eventually they leave the room, although Stiles can hear their voices down the hall and later, in the kitchen making food.

April 15th

Stiles counts to one hundred and opens his eyes. Derek and Scott had finally left his house as soon as his dad had come home a little past midnight, and Stiles was since then counting down until his father had fallen asleep. He grabs his keys and makes his way out of his house as quietly as possible. Stiles takes a deep inhale before unlocking his Jeep and starting the engine. 

He feels drops of water hit his arm before he realizes that he's crying. All he can think of is Lydia screaming. About how he was ready to plunge a sword into his gut and kill himself, to have Scott then slit his throat and seal the deal so that it would save them all, so that he could pay for what he did to Allison, to all the other people who had died. His mistake was thinking for a second that it was better to outsmart the nokitsune, and that maybe, just maybe, he deserved to live. He was going to fix that. He was going to fix everything, for everyone.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for everything." Stiles sobs out like a mantra, apologizing to the world for what he has done. His foot feels like lead and before he knows it he's accelerating, and accelerating, until there is no more open road in front of him but trees. His windshield shatters, and he hears the metal crunching and he feels pain everywhere, but more than anything, he feels Lydia screaming beneath his pores, and then he doesn't feel anything anymore.

 

Derek's tires screech to a halt near the wreck that was once Stile's Jeep. His heart is frantic, he runs towards the upturned car. What he sees makes him stop. There's too much blood. He doesn't think he can hear a heartbeat. Derek wrenches open what's left of the Jeep door and has to rip apart steering wheel, parts of the dashboard and some of the seat before he has Stiles in his arms. He's so pale and broken. Derek's fingers ghost over the man's face, cataloguing the lacerations and the fractures. He grabs his arm to take Stiles' pain away but he feels nothing, just cold. 

He hears the motorcycle stop and footsteps running towards him.

"No!" Scott screams, kneeling next to his best friends body. "Stiles? Stiles!" 

"Its too late." Derek whispers, his voice sounding distant, not like him. The arm that he is holding is wrenched away from him, grasped by Scott. The alpha looks at Derek, tears soaking his cheeks, before his eyes burn red and he places the wrist at his mouth, his sharp canines biting into the flesh, over and over again.


	2. Humanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fine." Stiles mutters. Derek looks up from his copy of "The Fault in our Stars" and raises an elusive eyebrow. 
> 
> "Fine." Stiles repeats. "Train me. Do your born werewolf mojo and make me into a great beta."

Waking up hurt. Stiles opens his eyes and realizes first thing that everything is way too vivid. He hears a shuffle next to him and feels a dip in the couch he's lying on. 

It's Derek. It's always Derek.

Stiles sits up and catalogues his body. No injuries. No pain. His arm once riddled with scars now has a couple of half moon bite marks. 

At first he wants to laugh at the irony of it all. And then he looks at Derek, whose face is crumpled in pain and Stiles feels bile rise up his throat.

"Fuck you!" He barks. Derek flinches. "And fuck Scott!" 

"We did what we had to-" Derek begins.

"I don't give a shit, Derek! You knew I didn't want this!" Stiles wails, rising off the bed.

"So we should have let you die?!" Derek poses, his voice rising.

"Yes!" Stiles shouts.

Derek stands in front of Stiles, peering down at the teen his face inches apart.

"I don't know what you're telling yourself to think you should off yourself but it has to stop." Derek grits, his fingers grasping Stiles' shoulder.

"Shut up!" Stiles screams, shoving Derek away. The teen begins to stomp away, marching towards the door. Hale sees red, he grasps Stiles by his shirt and throws him backwards. The teen's body skids on the floor and his face twists in pain. Stiles groans. It takes a second for Derek to realize what he's done.

"Shit. Sorry." Derek gasps as berates himself for reacting. He's alway reacting. Never able to use words to get through issues. Its always violence or running away or being cocky and stupid. Stiles was the smart one. The mile a minute babbler. Now he's a ghost in the shell that was once Stiles, the nokitsune having taken more than his soul, it took his personality, it took his sanity.

"Fuck that hurt, Hale!" Stiles whines, hugging his body. "Guess that means I'm a prisoner here?" His eyes are pure hatred. It makes Derek sad to see Stiles glare at him like that, he doesn't want to hurt him, really.

"Only until you're better." Derek huffs.

"Better at what? Life? Happiness? Cuz' you took my goddamn humanity so its not like I can just work on getting better! And if I even tried to cut myself I would just heal right away so I guess I'll just have to resort to making you hit me to get my pain fix eh?" Stiles screams, all the bitterness edged into his voice like acid it pours into Derek's veins.

"That won't happen again." Derek states, his voice small. 

"Just leave me the fuck alone." Stiles mutters as he gets himself off the floor and resumes his fetal position on the couch, facing away from Derek.

April 24th

For the most part Stiles just sleeps. He doesn't know if its because Derek is always there, but he doesn't have nightmares. Scott checks in on them once in a while, and his dad calls, but for the most part everyone leaves him alone. 

Then one night Derek leaves, says its been a while since he's been cooped up in here and needs to go running for a bit. Stiles mutters that it's Derek's fault for being the ever vigilant prison warden. But when Derek leaves, Stiles stays put. Its become comfortable here in Derek's apartment. Hale kept on wanting to work on anchors and anger and shifting but Stiles wouldn't even get out of bed unless Derek forced him to. Derek left plates of food at the foot of the couch and Stiles would eat a few bites then go back to sleep. The first time he bathed was when Derek tossed him over his shoulder and gently plopped him into a full bath tub, fully clothed, threw a bar of soap at him and then slammed the bathroom door shut. Stiles didn't have a choice but to strip and wash. He changed into the sleepwear that was on the toilet lid, most likely dropped off by Scott. After that he made an effort to shower every few days. It could be much worse he mused. Derek had been all but accommodating and Stiles had appreciated the distance that older male had given him considering they were sharing space. His current predicament wasn't what he had wanted. He knew that had the situations been reversed he would have done everything in his power to keep Scott or even Derek alive. But he really had appreciated his humanity. Being a werewolf was so different. Everything was more highly atuned. His senses were off the scale, he could hear and see things better and the sense of smell was ridiculous, to the point that having Derek within a few feet of him did things to his body that he didn't want to understand. It was torture. The worse part is he could smell the same things off of Derek, and it didn't make Stiles happy. It pisses him off. Ridiculously so. It took days, when finally Stiles realized he was wasting his life away, moping on the floor in the Hale loft.

June 5th

"Fine." Stiles mutters. Derek looks up from his copy of "The Fault in our Stars" and raises an elusive eyebrow. 

"Fine." Stiles repeats. "Train me. Do your born werewolf mojo and make me into a great beta." 

Derek shuts the book and grabs his cellphone, after sending a text he looks up to Stiles once again. 

"Scott's coming over with Isaac." He states. Stiles just nods. 

Twenty minutes later Scott opens the door with Isaac in tow.

He pounces over to Stiles and grabs him into a bear hug. "About time, buddy!" Stiles awkwardly pats his best friend's back. "Yah." He mutters quietly. 

Time to move forward, he guesses. Time to accept what he was and leave his anger behind, along with his humanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M INFINITELY SORRY FOR THE RIDICULOUSLY LONG TIME YOU ALL HAD TO WAIT!!!! PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!! That aside, here is chapter 2. Chapter 3 is already 3/4 of the way done. I also want everyone to know that since posting chapter 1 I left my hometown to travel 11,000km across the country. I planned to write while on the road, but camping in the bush = no internet access. I sincerely apologize. Also I want everyone to know that chemistry is happening with Sterek. Also more angst. Pease let me know if I'm missing some tags. You are all fabulous.

**Author's Note:**

> \-------  
> I have no idea what the dates are in the season 3B. But basically this fic starts about two weeks after the last episode. Also I'm sorry for all the angst. I just felt the show didn't have enough time to delve into it. I've had friends die in high school and you never get over it. It takes weeks to even be functional. I know there isn't enough time in a TV show to explore that, so I was trying to get to that with this story. Also this is sort of how I want season 4 to go, minus the Stiles angst. But yah, thanks for sticking through, I have no idea how long this is going to be. I have quite a bit to go through, bear with me folks. :D


End file.
